Solitude in the Laughter
by 8DRainbowManVan8D
Summary: His smiling face was always laughing at me,cruel laughter. Always watching me lose my mind with those ardent contemptuous eyes. Every second I watched,the angrier I became,it was my right to laugh. This was my victory,not his! So why was he the one stiff with mirth? It echoed and it was deafening but it should have been mine. And I saw only hell in those bloodied smiling teeth.
1. Chapter 1

I've been depressed lately. Incredibly stressed too. So, in celebration of my inadequacy, a short. This is brought to you by Like Clockwork, Queens of the Stone Age.

WARNINGS! Uhm, language excessive and yeah some very slight mentions of sexual deviancy.

**If demand is strong enough or at least adamant enough I suppose I should say, I'll make this short into a short story—a couple chapters or so. Just enough for the other side of the story and at most an aftermath**

Solitude in the Laughter

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Bloodied teeth that keep smiling at me, grinning at me—fuckin' _laughin'_ at me! The bastard's eyes won't look away and he just keeps grinning his massive grin, wicked and so full of taunting teeth; more than should ever be seen. His god damned Cheshire grin. I can still hear him fuckin' laughin'.

I pull at my hair as I pant in anger, blood dripping from my knuckles, glaring right back into his staring eyes. Their gaze makes me angrier, the haze blurring my mind. My fingers twitch to wrap around his throat and choke him to death, listen to him wheeze, feel his heart stop as his fingers danced frantically over my arms, grasping and pulling in an almost intimate lovers caress—so desperate for release.

Fingernails biting and clawing, digging so deep, leaving bloody lines that speed the heart and _hurt_. I gasp harshly in and out as I lower my hands and crawl closer, pushing roughly at his chest, knocking him over. He rolls, looking away from me, but he's still smiling and I can still hear him laughing.

Bastard. Still makin' fun of me, lookin' down on me with those fiery brown eyes. I crawl stutteringly over to him, limping upwards into a half crouched position, staring at him, wondering why.

Just _why?_ Why was he still giving me those looks even when I was the one who won?! Why couldn't he cede victory to me for once in his thrice damned life?! It was me who won! ME! Not him.

He stayed there, turned away, laying there, a shark's grin pointed away and piercing me all the same. With my boot, I nudged him over onto his back. Sliding my bloodied hands into my pockets, I leaned forwards watching him as he stared at me, always laughing. A frown caught the corners of my lips as I knelt down over him, legs on either side of his abdomen, knees creaking in awful pain. Wincing, I gently pulled my hands from my pockets and settled one beside his head for balance and the other slipped into his unruly orange locks.

Scraping my fingers along his scalp, I felt grime and dirt and blood flake off with my nails, what wasn't caught under my fingernails flicking out into the air to float like dust in the dim lighting. I stared at them as I roughly petted his head, feeling his body slowly stiffening up beneath me. Why was he so cold?

Always so cold.

Glancing at his scowl, I ran my finger over his eyebrow as he watched me ardently, never once looking away, the blood on his smiling teeth gleaming in the light. My lips pursed into a grim line as I stared at the ruby staining them. Leaning closer, I licked at them, tasting the drying flavor of copper or perhaps iron. It was bitter and cloying and I _hated it._

Sneering I smacked his smiling face away so I could no longer see my reflection in his eyes. And as his head turned away I could no longer feel my own blue eyes staring back at me. Thank god because it was so unnerving. The damn bastard probably knew it too and was doing it on purpose.

And again, his laughter filled my ears.

I was the victorious one, I should be the one laughing! ME!

Snarling viciously, I stood up and started pacing, listening as his laughter turned into howling barks and gasps for air. Watching his body, I stared sickened as his smile grew bigger. I had to leave, his contempt was stifling. Aiming one last harsh kick to his side, I ran from the room as he rolled away.

I slammed through the door and ran until I gripped the sink counter, glaring at my bloodied fingers, gasping for air, trembling. Listening, I could still hear it echoing.

It was such cruel laughter.

Hesitantly, I looked up into the mirror and froze, anger quickly flying away from my grasp. I could see his face in the reflection and through the crack in the door. His bloodied face wasn't smiling in happiness or mirth.

It was grimacing and his eyes, those once beautiful fiery eyes were staring at an odd corner blinded and milky grey, his skin grey and ashen with purplish bruising at his back which he'd laid on for the past few hours. But his smiling grimace was haunting, despite not being really a smile his laughter was suffocating. His stiff limbs laying in awkward positions didn't move and I couldn't stand another second of it.

Quickly running to the door, I slammed it shut so I could no longer see his lifeless eyes. Stumbling away, I grabbed at the sink's rim holding on for dear life.

I was the one who won, I should be the one laughing, not being deafened by his. Tiredly I looked back into the mirror and stared at myself. My blue hair tangled and mussed, tinges of bloodied finger holds painted in crimson smears throughout. And then I saw my eyes.

My haunted eyes, full of tears and sadness, or was it madness? He was still laughing. I observed as unbidden tears pricked angrily at the corners of my eyes. Bastard things that they are and I scowled.

And that's when I noticed the unhinged huge canine smile stretching my face, with far too many teeth, teeth colored glorious red. And they were split apart and horrified I realized _I was laughing _and it was_ not _a_ happy sound._

And it was deafening. It was suffocating and since when had I been laughing? I listened for his and realized I could hear nothing from him. He was silent as the dead and as the dead should be, then it hit me.

With an angry sob I slid to my knees and hugged them tight as I could, wishing for comfort. It was never him laughing, always me. I had won and I knew it should've been me laughing and god _damn it_ I never even realized it was me all along. I stared at the ground falling numb.

It was such cruel laughter.

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If you want to know the other side to the story, let me know, otherwise this will just remain a mysterious weird depressing little ditty.

Why do I so love writing the macabre and depressing? Hm, perhaps it is because I relate most? Ack, who knows?

On a side note, ever look back at old writings and think 'meh, this ain't half bad.' And then you get a little deeper in and it's just like a mantra drowning out every other thought and enjoyment with 'JUVENILE. JUVENILE. JUVENILE.'

Yes? No? I was reading through old posts and my god did I near choke on my revulsion. Sorely tempted to be rid of it, I wish not to be associated with it.

Meh. Let me know if you want another chapter or what not, tell me your thoughts my dears, and until next update.

~8DRainbowManVan8D


	2. Chapter 2

Depression is a great motivator.

**Want more to this short story? Let me know.**

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He was so proud, always so proud. You could see it in the way his eyes gleamed and the curve to his smile, teeth shinning with a certain razor edge. And he was beautiful, like that little glimpse of freedom before burning in damnation. He was the temptation one faced when sin presented itself.

And he was cruel. Graceful and breathtaking in his violence. And I found myself always watching his movements, his eyes burning on my person with an ember that spoke of rage.

He had such a sad smile. And I wanted to help him, be there. I felt pity and showed him my fears for him. He became enraged, the likes of which I had only seen hinted at in his eyes. It was terrifying.

But I ducked and I rolled and evaded and hit back, anything to escape his wrath, his fists, the pain. It was like running against a tempest, he kept sucking me back in. We were endless and tireless. And he trapped me.

I pulled at his blue locks, bloodied fingers yanking hard as could be as he press thumbs into my neck. I scratched and pushed at his arms, but they were immobile. I kicked at his knees, I thrashed, I punched his mouth and still he held on. I couldn't escape and I couldn't breathe. Gagging, I needed air, I needed freedom so desperately. But his fingers, they only tightened, and I felt tremors through the abdomen my legs were squeezing.

Terrified, I looked into his eyes, those sad miserable eyes that were filled to the brim with tears, watery blue eyes. There was so much pain and once more I felt pity consume me. Such a pitiable man. My hands released his arms and I pet his face weakly, feeling numbness settle on my being, my heart slowing and lungs screaming. I was so tired, so so tired.

I felt it more than heard it at first, that awful cruel laughter as his shaking thumbs pressed harder. As shapes and shadows filled my sight, I watched a slow bitter, shark grin split his face, teeth stained an awful red, a certain razor's edge to them. The corners of his lips twitching like mad, his eyes completely unfocused. But, my god he was so beautiful.

He was just like a breath of fresh air after a stifling night or a dove flying free for the first time from its cage. That fleeting insurmountable happiness was all that he encompassed in my world. He was perfect, he was beautiful and I loved every inch of him.

His smile grew bigger still as I choked and my hands dropped to the floor, no longer strong enough to keep them upheld. As black surrounded me and his laughter faded away, I grimaced wondering how it had come to this. He was my glimpse of freedom before burning in damnation.

And I only saw hell in his bloodied smiling teeth.

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